Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 5, No. 19, November 1944

As I entered, a girl was put on trial for larceny; a common case, as that stated: yet I saw something in my first glance at her that made me forget lack of clients, cheerless office and telltale overcoat. She was about eighteen; fair and fresh-looking; with soft light hair brushed neatly over her ears; large blue eyes, the lids very much swollen by crying; and small, unmarked features. She was clad in a dark blue merino dress and a plain white collar. I felt that there was undoubtedly something wrong in the case; that decent looking young person, so neat and proper in dress, did not belong in a prisoner’s dock.

I watched her and watched the trial. The clerk read the indictment. The girl stood up and heard herself, Selina White, charged with stealing a shawl and dress, the property of one Mary Wilson. The tears rolling in streams down her cheeks, and her voice scarcely audible from emotion, she pleaded “not guilty.”

The first witness was the policeman who arrested her. His testimony amounted to nothing more than that he had found the clothes alleged to have been stolen in a carpet-bag marked with the prisoner’s name, and claimed by her. The prisoner was told by the judge, whose sympathy she had evidently enlisted, that it was proper for her to ask any questions bearing on the case, and I now perceived that she had no one to defend her, or give her special advice and aid. She availed herself of the privilege with which the judge had made her acquainted, and endeavored to draw from the officer the admission that she had shown more surprise when the stolen articles were found in her carpet-bag than any one else present, but in this she failed. He was altogether incommunicative and evasive in his answers to her.

One Mary Wilson testified to the loss of some clothes which she described; some garments were shown her which she identified. In answer to questions she stated that they had been lying in a trunk; that she had not laid eyes on them for three months or more till she found them in the prisoner’s carpet-bag, and that one Mary Murray had suggested her looking there for them.

Mary Murray was now called. She was a very bold girl, showy in dress and airy in manners. Her fingers were loaded with cheap rings, the most conspicuous of which was a large garnet. While the stolen garments were being shown, I had observed a young man crowd as far forward as he could get to look at them. My eyes happened to be on him when he first caught sight of the witness’s rings, and the expression which then covered his face excited my interest scarcely less than that of the prisoner had done. I approached him and inquired, “Do you know anything of this case?”

“Not much,” he answered, coloring deeply.

“If you know anything that can be brought to bear in favor of the prisoner tell me forthwith,” I said, “for she is innocent looking and I am afraid things will go hard with her.”

“She never stole them things,” he said.

“They were found in her possession; that is strong legal proof, and I am afraid it will decide the case against her.”

“Are you her lawyer?” he asked.

“I am now going to offer to defend her; if you can tell me anything, there is not a moment to lose.”

“Well, then, some of the same fuzz and trimmings that’s on them stolen clothes is on this girl on the stand.”

“Is that so? Are you sure?”

“Sure as can be. Then I know that big ring on her forefinger as well as I know my hand.”

“Do you?”

“I’d swear to it.”

“Well, we’ll give you a chance to. What is your name?”

“Miles Allen.”

“Keep on hand and we’ll take care of this poor girl, if we can.”

I sent up a line to the judge, in which I offered to defend the prisoner. He announced this fact, I took a seat beside her, and the trial went on. The interview with Allen and the note to the judge had prevented me from hearing much of Mary Murray’s testimony; but the prisoner seemed to have lost nothing of it. She questioned her closely as to their personal relations, and from the answers she drew out, it was evident that Selina’s pretty face had excited considerable admiration in a young man who boarded at Mrs. Wilson’s, and whom Mary Murray chose to consider her beau; that Mary had shown ill-will towards Selina on making this discovery, and had even uttered a few threats for her warning. I permitted the prisoner to elicit these facts without interruption, and I must acknowledge she did it with a tact which surprised me, and which I could ascribe only to strong woman-wit quickened and urged on by the extremity of her circumstances. Mary Murray was leaving, when I detained her for further examination.

“Have you any employment?” I inquired.

She answered in the affirmative.

“What is it?”

“Cap-making.”

“Do you work at the shop, or at your own lodgings?”

“Sometimes at the shop, and sometimes at my lodgings.”

“Where have you worked during the last week?”

“At my lodgings.”

“What kind of caps do you make?”

“Plush.”

“Of what color?”

“Mostly brown.”

“Was that bit of brown plush now hanging to your shawl-fringe from the caps?”